


Merci, Cherí

by Prawnperson



Category: Don’t Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Based off their quotes for each other which are very tender by DST standards, M/M, Wesfrid and Willowson are mentioned but not enough to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 18:37:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20605448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prawnperson/pseuds/Prawnperson
Summary: Their quotes are...nice...





	Merci, Cherí

“I can so fight!”

Warly grumbles. He clenches his fists together in mock aggression, trying not all that hard to look threatening. He imagines it would be hard for anyone to look threatening compared to Wolfgang.  
He looks wholly amused with the whole thing, and they both know that this is a joke, but some part of Warly genuinely wants to impress him. 

He goes to lay a punch against Wolfgang’s chest. A soft one, a fake one. Not one that could actually hurt. Instead, however, Wolfgang places his palm over his knuckles, and pushes them back against Warly’s chest.

“Why not use fists for bread making, yes?”

He lets go of his hands a second later and continues to walk ahead on the trail, leaving Warly standing, rather shaken, in the middle of a grasslands.

———

The fire spreads incredibly quickly. Willow was trying to show him how to properly make charcoal. Wolfgang is certainly not the kind of person to judge someone straight away, but, if he were asked honestly, he would confess to a sneaking suspicion that Willow wanted the trees surrounding them to burst into flames at his hands, just so she could avoid another one of Wilson’s tiresome fire safety lectures.

Speaking of which, Wilson is currently approaching, rather red in the face and evidently incredibly angry as he watches half of the forest burn up before them. Wolfgang doesn’t like whenever Wilson gets like this. He usually rambles on until he either loses his voice, or gets hungry.

“Surely he didn’t know what he was doing when he set the flames!”

Warly calls from just a bit away from Wilson. The scientist stops in his tracks, and rubs his temples, taking a few deep breaths that they’re all pretty sure even Charlie could hear.

“No, I suppose not.”

Finally comes the reply, before he disappears to go and get some water. Wolfgang relaxes ever so slightly, and finds that he isn’t all that annoyed by Willow’s mischievous giggling.

———

“Does tiny man need mighty Wolfgang’s help?”

Oh, it’s so smug. He knows he sounds smug, he has to. There’s no way that something like that could be said with sincerity. Still, it’s not like he has much of a choice, and it’s not like Warly actually likes floating around looking for a touchstone instead.

He nods, and is surprised by how calm Wolfgang seems to be for being around a ghost.

“Wolfgang make heart.”

He sits down on the rocky ground and rummages through his backpack, searching out the ingredients to craft a heart, whilst Warly floats rather awkwardly above him, hoping that Wolfgang doesn’t ask how he died in the first place.

———

Wolfgang swings up once, and down another time, and mentally curses himself for not checking how well his spear was doing before coming out. 

They’re just little toads. Frogs. Whatever they are, they’re easy to take down. More like little bugs, although he doesn’t like that comparison all that much. They die quickly and without much fuss, other than a few writhing croaks as they squirm out the last of their lives.

“Wolfgang’s fists are weapons!”

Warly beams, just catching up on him with bundles of grass in his arms. Wolfgang shrugs almost bashfully, because it’s not like he isn’t used to people being impressed by his strength, but he sort of though all the others had gotten used to it by now.

———

“Tasty making man is murderer!”

Ah, no. This looks bad, doesn’t it? The bloodied machete in his hands probably doesn’t help. Warly holds his hands up defensively, smiling nervously and trying very hard not to show the fact he’s absolutely terrified. 

“BEES!”

He finally blurts out, much too loud and high, voice cracking on the last letter whenever Wolfgang puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes just a little too hard. Sure enough, whenever they both simultaneously turn, they can see that Wes’ body is, in fact, peppered with minuscule punctures. His ghost is still hovering above, arms folded, with a rather indignant look on his face.

“Ah...sorry...”

The grip on his shoulder relaxes, and Warly almost misses it.

———

“You’re very strong indeed.”

Warly whispers, lying on the ground with a half dazed look on his face. Wolfgang grins, carefully helping the smaller man into a sitting position. He can feel him shaking, still a little cold from being ‘unconscious’ for so long. Dead, technically, but they don’t speak about that. 

Wolfgang has a funny feeling that something rather embarrassing must have killed him, judging by the way he twitches nervously when thanking him for reviving him. 

“Do not mention it.”

He clarifies. They do this all the time. Wolfgang can’t count on his fingers the number of times one of the others have had to bring him back from beyond. It’s not like it’s really a big deal. Then again, that’s almost like saying it’s not a big deal being flung out from your physical body. He knows Warly’s still relatively new to the whole dying and coming back again thing, and he remember how it was for him the first few times without a touchstone.

He doesn’t expect the small kiss on the cheek. It drags him rather abruptly out of his pondering, coaxing him to stare down at the other, unable to disguise his alarm. That’s not really a big deal either, right? That’s just what French people do, isn’t it? 

He’s never seen Wes do that to anyone but Wigfrid before.

“Merci, chérie.”

———

**Author's Note:**

> I may write more about these two if anyone would read that?


End file.
